


Burning In The Back Of Your Brain

by BBirdy



Series: Forgotten Flames [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Amnesia, Blood, Blood and Injury, Earth Kingdom (Avatar), Gen, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Stubborn Katara (Avatar), Whump, Zuko (Avatar)-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25245142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BBirdy/pseuds/BBirdy
Summary: Something else was wrong.His head shifted. Zuko was waking.Lying on the dirt, the dirt underneath dark hair turned to mud.More blood."He hit his head," Toph spoke, though no one could have missed it.
Series: Forgotten Flames [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828876
Comments: 16
Kudos: 387





	Burning In The Back Of Your Brain

The move had been so fast, none had expected. She'd shifted back, on one heel, before darting forward, fingers out, not a hair out of place. 

Knowing his sister Zuko hadn't let it land. 

Zuko was before his uncle before the bolt landed.

The ready group launched their own attacks, not daring to turn, not daring to see. 

Iroh's yell was terrible, his shock taking all spark from his fingertips. It was all the old man could do to turn and drop to his knees. 

Smoke, thick and dark billowing, hid the burning village. 

Aang tried to squint through chafing eyes, tried to find what had happened. 

Too fast. It had all been too fast. 

Blinking away the soot Aang turned to see the terrible sight. underneath the sky line of mud darkened houses, orange flames flickering along what remained of wood frames the hulking figure leaned, old hands shaking. 

Katara had a hand to her mouth, the other on her water skin before her brother took her wrist. 

He was shaking his head, trying to pull her away. 

Toph felt the ragged breathing, thanking all for that moment she could not see what was before her. She could feel it. 

The burn hadn't been only the blast of heat and skin tearing pain. It had been the white-hot rip, the one that had only just taken corners from buildings, ripping wood in half as easily as an axe. 

Zuko's arm, limp and pale, stood at an odd angle. 

"I, I can heal him." Katara ripped herself away from Sokka, hating his disapproval. 

Iroh pushed himself back. The old face had aged a decade in a matter of moments. Clinging to the boy's good hand he looked up, jaw set. "Please," the word trembled, cracking. "Please help my nephew."

"Katara," Sokka wasn't protesting her aid, but doubting her ability, she realized. None of them had seen a wound like this. And the last time Sokka had seen eyes that dim, he was holding Yue. 

She ignored the note, heart thudding in her chest. dropping beside the firebenders, the enemy, her mind reminded viciously. 

Water doused her hands, glowing palely in the light. There was no sound to her but his short breaths, fire, and destruction around her be damned. 

And underneath her fingers, where water's healing touch reached and where her trembling fingers brushed she could feel the broken skin. Not just skin, bone. The blast, the force, and the landing. It all had been too much for him. 

"When, when did he eat last?" she asked, a knot in her throat. 

"I don't know," the old man's answer, sorrow breaking the words as sharply as a knife. 

"He's very weak."

This was not Katara's observation but Toph's. She hadn't moved, eyes closed, forcing her concentration to hear only the unsteady rhythm of Zuko's heart. 

"Toph," Katara asked gently. "Help me."

There wasn't hesitation. 

Stood by them Toph felt every haggard breath. 

"Tell me if anything changes."

A sharp nod. 

Katara pressed her hands to his chest once more. The pressure drove a weak moan from her patient. Underneath heavy lids, his eyes shifted back and forth. 

The injury knit, unbearably slowly but she could feel the bone righting itself, the skin cooling. 

"Toph?"

"His heart rate is going back to normal."

Katara sighed. 

"He's going to be okay."

Aang dropped where he stood, the breath he'd been holding releasing with a long sigh. Sokka patted his shoulder.

"Thank you," Iroh bent over the hand he still clung to, pressing his lips to the pale fingers. So long looking for his nephew this was not the reunion he'd planned. 

Katara pulled her hands away, tracing the ragged burns in the brown shirt. The injury had turned pale pink. it wasn't her best work, she knew that. But he would be okay.  
  
He should be waking.

Toph shifted foot to foot. She could feel the concern. Something else. Something else was wrong.

His head shifted. Zuko was waking.   
  
Lying on the dirt, the dirt underneath dark hair turned to mud. 

More blood. 

"He hit his head," Toph spoke, though no one could have missed it. she pushed the sharp rock away, bringing it up. Dark gray, unassuming, only his size of her own fist. But the sharp corner was jagged and scarlet. 

"Turn him over!" Katara was back on her knees. 

But she knew what damage had been done before she was touching the wound. Skin she could knit, bone she could wind back together, blood she could very nearly force back into the body, but the mind was not a thing in her realm. If he'd hit his head hard enough…

"He's going to need rest," Katara said, wiping the red off, hating the pale pink of the water. "I don't, I'm not sure how much of that I can fix."

Iroh nodded, brushing back sweat-dampened locks from Zuko's pale forehead. 

"You can come with us."

Aang's offer was that of a child, concern dripping. 

"That is not necessary," Iroh's sigh was low. "I understand what we are to you. I can care for him myself, though my gratitude for you cannot be expressed. 

"Please?" Aang said.

"Yeah," Toph tried to grin. "You owe us for saving that one's life. you can make tea."

A knot released in Iroh's chest. "Thank you," he repeated, a phrase he said often as their journey moved on, away from the burning place. 

* * *

Still unconscious, Zuko was laid on the back of the large Bison. Iroh patted the large beast's head. He'd seen it before of course, but to have the large animal so calm was a blessing. "Be careful in your flight," he asked. 

Aang's bright smile was tinged. Each child was so utterly exhausted. 

But trust it seemed, was not needed for sleep. 

Iroh looked over the slumbering children, each unconscious within moments of the gentle flight. 

Even Sokka, shooting Iroh glances over his shoulder, could not find the energy for suspicion, let alone anger. 

* * *

The morning bloomed pale and soft. The early morning sky was blood red at the mountain peaks. Appa, unable to keep himself airborne, had landed atop the side of a mountain, thunderous snores echoing across rock. 

It was Katara who woke first, nose lifting to the air. Se the usual resident cook, waking to the smell of warming food was odd, to say the least. 

Pushing herself up on one elbow she glanced down. 

In a small clearing beside the still slumbering Appa, the old man, Iroh, stoked the fire with flicks of his finger. Beside him their teapot, filled and steaming, sat atop a flat rock, empty cups sat waiting. And the pot, bubbling happily over the fire filled the air with herbs and vegetables.

She slid to the ground. 

Adrenaline and exhaustion now behind her nerves had risen to take their place. 

"Good morning," Iroh smiled, offering her a cup. 

She took it with trepidation. 

Toph hadn't been wrong. He made great tea. "Thank you."

"No. I should be thanking you." Iroh's gaze traveled to The edge of the clearing. He'd laid Zuko in the shade of the peak above, where still he had not woken. "For all the harm we have caused you, you still save Zuko's life."

"A choice I hope I won't regret," Katara said gently, pointedly. 

Iroh's smile was suddenly not as encouraging. "There is so much I wish I could say," his sigh was long. "But the morning is early and I am sure your traveling companions will not allow us to stay long enough to tell it. I promise you only that no harm will come while we are with you, and we will leave once Zuko is able."

"I don't know how honestly I can believe you."

His laugh was sudden and boisterous. "I suppose that is true."

He had an odd way of setting you at ease, Katara realized. 

The sound, however, was enough to draw bed heads upward from the saddle. 

Katara knew they'd hardly managed enough sleep to be functional, a fact that could very well be influencing her trust of this old man. 

"Food?" Sokka's sleepy groan echoed down to her. 

"Not my best work," Iroh admitted, almost conspiratorially to Katara. "But hopefully edible."

"It smells wonderful."

Why was she complimenting him? Saving a life was one thing. 

Sokka slid down Appa's side, his own suspicion and distrust joining his sisters in an off kilter harmony. 

Remaining purposely oblivious Iroh offered him a cup as well. "The food will be done shortly."

He found he didn't know what to say. taking the cup of tea in his hands Sokka glanced at the sleeping Zuko. "How is he?"

The bright smile faltered. "Well, so far as I can tell. But I have been unable to wake him. And I would rather he rest while he can."

Katara bit her bottom lip. "I'd like to look him over if I can, just to make sure the healing went okay."

"Of course," Iroh grunted as he stood, back stiff. "I apologize. I am not as young as I used to be."

Karata smiled. She couldn't help it. This old man was utterly charming. He reminded her wildly, of Gran Gran, and she thought they might have gotten along. 

"Did you manage to get any sleep?" She saw the heavy circles under his own eyes. 

"Only just."

Katara pursed her lips, saying nothing. 

Kneeling along with Iroh Katara kept her hands light, pushing aside the brunt edges of Zuko's shirt. 

Most of the ash and burnt fabric had torn away, scuffing his skin a pale gray. The baby pink burn had shifted, new skin softer than tissue. But it hadn't ripped again. 

"Can you turn him over?"

"How much were you able to heal?"

He seemed to know the limits of her own ability, maybe better than she did. He was old, impossible to tell what he'd learned, he may have heard stories about the world before the war. He hadn't been alive, but perhaps teachers or mentors had been. 

Katara cleared her throat. "The skull wasn't cracked. But he might have a concussion. I don't think so, because his breathing is steady and I can ask Toph to get a read on his heartbeat when she's up."

Iroh said nothing, his face reverted back to old and grim. 

"He'll be fine. It's Zuko."

The return of his laugh was a comfort, even if the sound did not quite reach his pained eyes. 

"I can finish breakfast if you'd rather stay with him."

"I thank you," Iroh shook his head. "But I do owe you for your kindness. If meals are all I can offer at this moment then I will offer it."

* * *

Iroh watched the morning pass, as if a stranger trespassing in someone's dream. After the healer's insistence, he'd finally taken the offer for what it was. She wanted him out of the way. 

And he'd complied to the request. 

Content to sit by his nephew he waited for him to wake. 

After a while Iroh closed his eyes, leaning against the wall of the mountain. 

He felt something like a fly on the wall, listening to the lives of these children. The young boy, the avatar, had hopped up, crowing happily about earth bending. 

This was the first day of his training to bend earth. 

"What a young avatar," Iroh mumbled to himself, humming softly. 

The other boy, the water tribe boy, was complaining about the noise. The earth bender was laughing. 

Just _children_. 

His heart ached, the way it had done when he had first volunteered to go with Zuko on his fruitless journey. 

Now he sat in the avatar's camp, Zuko's goal only inches away. 

How would the boy react upon finding his prey? Was he well enough to react? 

But he slept. 

Zuko would not wake. 

And morning stretched to afternoon. 

A hand brushed his arm. 

Iroh lifted a heavy lid. No, not afternoon, evening. He must have slept. 

"Are you hungry?" The girl, Katara, was asking. 

Iroh cleared the sleep from his eyes, looking to his nephew. 

Still asleep, pale and asleep. 

"No."

Katara knelt beside him, eyes off Zuko. "You've been asleep for a while. The others are all away, Sokka managed to get himself lost and-" she shook her head, mouth turned down. "In any case, I thought you might enjoy some quiet."

Iroh forced a smile, patting her hand. "You are very kind my dear. But I am afraid my concern stays my appetite."

"He still won't wake?"

"He must heal."

"He is healed," Katara began slowly. 

"Then why won't he-"

The groan was a rattle of death. Zuko's glazed eyes opened slowly. 

"Thank you," Iroh breathed. 

Katara was set on her guard, hands clenched to fists at her side. And yet she waited, a perverse curiosity rooting her to the spot. 

The dying evening light cast gold shadows across his face, contracting his pupils. 

"Zuko? How are you feel-"

Lying still one moment, Zuko had pressed himself against the wall the next moment, lying flat against the stone. 

Katara had a hand up, the pot of boiling water at the edge of camp swayed. 

"Zuko," Iroh tried, hands outstretched. "We are not enemies here. Everything is okay. Take a deep breath. You must calm down. Azula hurt you. You have been healed."

The wild-eyed look didn't fade. If anything it increased. He pressed himself against the wall. 

"Zuko?"

"I," his voice cracked. "I don't know who that is."

Katara's jaw dropped. "Oh..."

* * *

  
"What do you mean he can't remember?" Sokka demanded loudly. 

"Just that." Katar had her arms crossed over her chest. She was not in the mood for any of her brother's antics right now. Vanished for a full day with a story about getting stuck in a ditch? Even with Aang's reassurances, she found it hard to swallow. 

And Sokka seemed to feel much the same about her story. 

Zuko, for they had assured him over and over that _was_ his name, still sat far from the group. He'd been offered a cup of tea, the tiny glass sitting a few feet from him. He clenched his hands into his palms, forehead scrunched tighter. 

Why did they have to yell?

And why did the old man have to sit so close to him?

"if you believe him that's fine. The jerk is up and walking. So send them on their merry way!" Sokka was still shouting. 

He couldn't help but glance toward the hunched figure. He hadn't really been in the mindset to see him before but Zuko looked like he had shrunk. No more was he tall, armored, and furious. He was unreasonably thin, though that could have been a trick of his threadbare brown clothing. Sokka shook away the thoughts. 

It simply wasn't possible. 

"Can I talk to him?" Aang broke in on the conversation. His giddy grin had slid right away once he'd been told and he had managed to stay very still throughout the sibling's argument.

Katara rubbed the bridge of her nose. "I mean you can try. Iroh has been trying but he won't talk."

Only a few feet from him the old man's face stiffened. Zuko wouldn't look at him. And, seeing his nephews' comfort came only at his distance Iroh had relocated, sat on a stone, hands folded in his lap. 

Aang set his staff down, walking slowly to Zuko. He was reminded for a moment of a time, a lifetime before, or maybe just a few months previous, squatting next to the unconscious form of the blue spirit. 

He hoped this time it would have a decent ending. 

"Hi," he waved a little. 

Zuko flinched, eyes flickering up, only for a fraction of a second. 

"My name is Aang. What's yours?"

He shook his head. Zuko sounded wrong. But nothing else would come to mind. 

"Katara says you're having trouble remembering things. What do you remember?"

A shrug this time. 

"No one here wants to hurt you."

The words began to unwind the knot in his chest. But how could he be sure?

Zuko looked up again. Knelt where he was a flicker of something, something not there, a memory flashed across his eyes. A burst of fire, a flash of pain. He had a hand to his cheek, where he felt stiff flesh. He'd been scarred, badly. The memory, for it had to be a memory, was the only thing in his mind, replaying cruelty. Why was that the only thing he knew? And how could he know it hadn't been someone here?

The boy, Aang, was closer now, skipping his heart rate. He closed his eyes, something hot underneath his clenched fists. 

Aang froze, pausing where he was, cross-legged now. "I won't come closer. But you can't exactly sit there forever," his laugh was soft. 

It loosened something underneath his ribs. 

Zuko sat, imitating the cross-legged position. 

It was a start. 

**Author's Note:**

> There might be more, no promises. I'm jsut really enjoying amnesia Zuko rn. Blame (thank) asu1as on tumblr for this fit of inspiration. ;)


End file.
